


DanAndPhilWEED

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Drug Use, Fluff, M/M, Marijuana, Oh dear lord, Reality, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10479339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: At the Sunday Market, Phil is bullied into buying a new houseplant.Turns out, it's not really a 'houseplant'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.

                “Nice houseplant. Very nice houseplant. You like? Yes?”

                Maybe coming to the Sunday market wasn’t the best idea. Especially since Dan wasn’t here, and Dan was good at dealing with these types of sellers. Phil thought the way he handled them was a bit rude, but hey, he made them go away, at least.

                The houseplant in question… wasn’t really a houseplant. It was a tiny bud. But the man was extremely persistent. This _was_ a nice houseplant, he insisted. Very nice.

                “Uh…”

                “Nice. Nice, yes? You put it in sunlight, a little water, and it grow. Nice plant. You buy, yes?”

                “Uh…”

                Phil subconsciously reaches for his wallet. He’s bad at saying no to people, and the guy kind of reminded him of Tom Nook. He buy, yes.

                When he gets home, he’s £5 down and a houseplant up. Dan doesn’t notice him, and he manages to sneak his new baby into his bedroom. Thank the Lord above.

                He places it on his windowsill and names it Jimbob.

                -

                “Phil… _Phil!_ Is this a new bloody houseplant?”

                Dan went into his room to get something, and now he’s standing at his windowsill incredulous, pointing at Jimbob. Phil looks on sheepishly from the doorframe.

                “When I was at the Sunday Market, the guy… he was very persistent.”

                Dan facepalms.

                “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone. You’re too nice for your own good.”

`               Phil’s smile widens slightly. “He is cute though, isn’t he? I’ve been watering him twice a day.”

                “What have I told you about gendering the houseplants?”

                “Hey, Jimbob is a growing young boy, and-“

                “Jimbob? Oh, don’t explain it to me, I don’t care.” Dan throws his hands in the air and leaves.

                -

                Jimbob was growing up to be a healthy, strong boy, and Phil felt his parental instincts kick in whenever he watered him. He’d started to grow large, thin leaves, and it didn’t look anything like any houseplant Phil had seen before. It just made him unique, Phil thought, and Phil loved his unique son.

                He’s watering his baby and cooing over him, when Dan decides to stop in his doorway.

                “Uh… Phil?”

                “Yes? Look how well Jimbob is growing.”

                “Uh, yeah about that.”

                Dan looks immensely serious. Phil puts down his mini watering can and looks back at him.

                “Uh… Phil…?”

                “Yes…?”

                “That’s fucking _marijuana_!”

                Phil stares, confounded for a moment, before turning back to Jimbob.

                Oh.

_Oh._

                “Well… uh, if our son wants to live an alternative lifestyle, that’s up to him, and-“

                “Phil! You’re growing marijuana in broad fucking daylight! It’s on your windowsill. Literally anyone could look in here and see it!”

                “So are you saying we should banish our son to a life of seclusion?”

                “Yes! And stop with the ‘our’! You growing your own weed has nothing to do with me! If the police bust you, I’m not going down with you.”

                Dan removes himself from the room, exasperated, leaving behind the flourishing Jimbob and a slightly hurt Phil.

                -

                “We need help, and I’m not about to proxy-search ‘what to do with a weed plant’.”

                Phil sits and thinks. Phil has a limited social circle, and none of them are weed smokers, as far as he’s aware. Dan looks at him expectantly. He thinks, and thinks, until his face lights up with recollection.

                “Yeah? You thought of someone?”

                Phil looks slightly embarrassed. “Yeah.”

                “Who?”

                He at least has the decency to blush. “My… my mum.”

                Dan stares for a few moments.

                “ _What?_ ”

                “I told you she used to be a hippy!”

                “Yeah, but, you never mentioned that!”

                “Well, I, I… I thought it went without saying!”

                They stare each other down for a bit, Phil getting more flustered with each passing second.

                “Well… phone her, then. Put it on loudspeaker.”

                Phil fumbles in his pocket and yanks out his phone, hands damp with perspiration. His fingers shake as he keys the number in, and Dan gives him an unimpressed look from underneath his eyebrows.

                Ring. Ring. Ri-

                “Hi sweetie. This is a strange time to be phoning me. Is everything alright?”

                “Uh, hi, yes, I mean…” he feels Dan’s glare without looking, “I mean no, I mean-“

                “Shh, calm down. Breathe deeply.”

                His mother’s voice had a tranquilizing effect on Phil, and he does as she says. In through his nose and out through his mouth. Three counts…

                “Are you still there? Phil?”

                “Oh, yes. I. I, we, have a problem?”

                “Yeah? Go on.”

                “Well, uh, at the Sunday market, I bought a houseplant, yeah? It was still a little bud when I bought it. So I’ve been watering it, and-“

                “Phil.”

                “Yes.”

                “It’s not weed, is it?”

                Phil’s silence answers the question.

                “Oh _God_ , Phil.”

                “I don’t know what to do!”

                “Right, okay. Well. Are you looking to just get rid of it, or…”

                “Or?”

                “Or do you want to smoke it?”

                Phil lowers the phone. He and Dan share a profound look, and Phil lifts the receiver again. He answers for the pair of them.

                “Smoke it.”

                -

_Found this in my loft, right next to the scrapbooks I kept during that time! I also found one of my old wispy, floral dresses! I’ll model it for you the next time you both come up._

_Love,_

_Mum/mum in law_

                Phil’s mum has mailed them a 3-part weed grinder. Along with it, there’s some Polaroid’s of her in her heyday, and a recent picture of her wearing her dress again.

                “She’s adorable,” Dan remarks.

                Thankfully, Mrs. Lester had the foresight to write up a tutorial on how to actually use the grinder. Thank God. Dan is not about to go to jail for googling ‘how to grind weed’.

                He peers at the paper for a bit, looking slightly confused. Phil stands by, ready for instruction.

                “Right. Go wash your hands, and get a coin. Make sure you wash the coin too.”

                “What type of coin?”

                “Oh, I don’t know, any type.”

                5 minutes later, Phil comes back reeking of Detol and wielding a shiny £2 coin.

                “Okay, right.”

                “Now, bring through the plant.”

                Phil looks at him.

                “Jimbob, then. Bring through Jimbob.”

                Phil complies. When he comes back, he looks slightly crestfallen.

                “Oh, don’t look like that. He’s going to a good cause.”

                “I suppose…”

                Dan starts cutting off the leaves of the plant, and Phil has to avert his eyes. His son, his beautiful son… he’d bloomed so much, and now he was being violently torn apart by his other dad. How beastly. How savage. How, how…

                Dan finishes cutting the leaves.

                “Phil. Phil, are you crying?”

                “He was so young!”

                “Oh, Christ on a bike. Come here.”

                Phil sobs it out on his shoulder. 20 minutes later, they’re ready to continue with their project.

                “Do you have the coin?”

                “Yes.”

                “Okay, grind it on top of the leaves. Like a scratch card.”

                Phil does as asked. He notices little bits of the leaves falling away. “Is it working?”

                “You’re asking me that as if I’ve ever done this before.”

                Soon enough, they seem to be finished.

                “Right,” Dan’s glowering at the tutorial, ”go to the bottom layer of the grinder.”

                When Phil opens it up, they both peer at it, untrusting. What they’re greeted with is a powder-like, pale yellow substance.

                “Is that it?”

                “How would I know? Your mum didn’t provide pictures in her tutorial, did she?”

                “Okay, what’s next?”

                “We… turn it into hash?”

                Dan shoves the paper into Phil’s hand.

                “Oh.”

                -

                A roll of parchment sheet, a towel, an iron and half an hour later, they appear to have ‘hash’. Neither of them were entirely sure what the difference between hash and weed was, but they had faith in Mrs. Lester.

                “So, do we smoke it?”

                “I… think so? Go to the store and buy skins.”

                “Alright.”

                -

                There was a large towel spread on Phil’s bedroom floor, which had all their equipment set on it. Dan and Phil are sitting at the outskirts, looking wary.

                “So.”

                They’ve rolled up two, and they’ve fished out the lighter in their kitchen. Now they’re just sitting down, staring at the roll-ups.

                “Um.”

                “Yeah.”

                “So do we, uh…”

                “…smoke.”

                “Yeah, smoke…”

                “…smoke the….”

                “Yeah.”

                They continue staring at the roll-ups.

                The first one to crack is, surprisingly, Phil. He breaks both of their trances by hastily grabbing the one on the left.

                Dan looks half surprised, half awed.

                “What? Were we going to get high by looking at them? Light them up by heating them with our penetrating gazes?”

                Dan ignores his less-than witty quip and reaches for his own.

                Now with something to awkwardly fiddle with in their hands, they sit and stare at the lighters.

                Phil reaches for it first.

                He’s about to start lighting his up, when…

                “Phil, Phil, I don’t trust you with that, c’mere.”

                Dan takes his blunt and starts flicking the lighter. When the first flame shows, they both startle a little.  Dan drags it to the roll-up.

                “Is, is it catching… yeah, yeah. There you go.”

                Phil whispers a ‘thanks’. They’re both a bit intimidated, but neither of them are prepared to admit it.

                As Dan starts trying to light his own, Phil goes in for the first drag. He puts it to his lips… inhales through the mouth… okay. Now, to exhale…

                “Phil!”

                He’s spluttering and coughing on the floor, the blunt having stubbed itself out on the towel.

                “Why didn’t mum write a tutorial for _this_ bit?”

                “Oh God, come here Phil.”

                -

                Two blunts and two microwave burgers later, they’re laying down on Phil’s bed.

                “Y’know… it’s kinda messed up…”

                “Huh? Why?”

                “I was smoking my son’s ashes…”

                “For God’s sake, Phil. He went to a good cause.”

                “Yeah. He did.”

**Author's Note:**

> So so sorry. This is a complete mess.
> 
> Also, I don't know if Phil's maw smokes weed. Actually, she probably doesn't. Please don't sue me Mrs. Lester.


End file.
